


The way the moonshines in your eye

by Toss_a_coin_to_your_daddy



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24962398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toss_a_coin_to_your_daddy/pseuds/Toss_a_coin_to_your_daddy
Summary: Geralt and Dandelion set out once again after a winter apart. But a ghoul attack might seperate them forever.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 118





	The way the moonshines in your eye

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally my excuse to write game! Geralt and Dandelion together. With some assistance from Regis. Enjoy

Dandelion had been talking non stop since they had left Oxenfurt. He couldn’t seem to shut up about the exploits he’d gotten up to during their long winter reprieve while Geralt was in the blue mountains of Kaer Morhen. He’d already told him, at length, the entirety of the bardic competition and all the petty antics he and Valdo Marx had done to each other to try to get a leg up on the other. 

Geralt couldn’t help but be proud, if a bit mortified when Dandelion had said he used different herbs to make his rival lose his voice right before the second round, or had cleverly put itching plant powder in the other man's trousers while he slept. Geralt wondered if his friend was keeping from him how quiet or sneaky he could actually be with these tales of his rogue like abilities. He assumed half of this was embellished anyway and he may have just hired someone to do the dirty work. 

In the end, Dandelion had won, naturally. The stupid Laurel crown sat atop his pompus head when Geralt had first found him, as if the dork had been awaiting his arrival, and perhaps he had. Or perhaps he’d just been wearing it like an idiot for weeks to rub it in everyone’s faces. Either wouldn’t surprise Geralt. The smile that spread across the troubadours face when they’d seen each other again was infectious, and even Geralt couldn’t help a chuckle as his friend stood on wobbly legs to cross the tavern to embrace him in a clumsy hug. 

They’d spent a few more days in the city, Geralt buying and haggling for provisions and the like, checking the notice boards for contracts as Dandelion took one last victory lap as he called it, and bid nearly everyone he’d ever met goodbye till next year. Once done they headed out without further fanfare, thankfully. Geralt had caught word of a Griffin that was terrorizing a village South of here, and while he didn’t love Velen and it’s sodding mess of roads, at least he had the bard’s company to keep the nights from becoming too quiet. 

In the years the two had known each other, Geralt had bitched and moaned himself hoarse at the other’s ‘obnoxious bellowing’, but Dandelion had taken it in stride. The man seemed to have a never ending repertoire of comebacks and rude insults to hurl when Geralt started being too hard on him. Their bickering might have appeared harsh, to the untrained eye, but each knew they really only meant what they said in jest.  
‘You sound like a drowning cat, I should know, I drowned a panther just last week on the banks of the Yaruga.’   
‘Says a man, with hardly a crown to his name, and would only have the company of crows if it weren’t for me. You couldn’t discern a good song from the wails of a banshee.’  
‘You’d certainly give one a run for their money.’ 

Geralt figured if anyone could put up with him for this long and still want to be around him, then he ought to make sure that person had a reason to stay. So whenever he had a good hunt he made sure they stayed at an inn, knowing Dandelion preferred it to the ground in the woods. And if he came into something interesting at a bandit camp he always saved a trinket for his friend, be it jewelry, or some other bauble. Dandelion always gave him grief about just selling the junk he found and using the money for something, but Geralt knew his friend appreciated it, a ring shining on his finger as he strummed the lute across the fire, and the vast amount of trophies he had tucked away at his abandoned office at the university and how the hoard only grew each year Geralt visited told a different story all together. 

No, now the Bard’s near incessant talking was not a nuisance hardly at all, for Geralt enjoyed his friends' stories and insight. The winter’s were quiet, almost too much so. He had his brother’s to talk with about the last season of hunts, but they were still like him, stoic, brooding, except when Lambert brought out the hooch and God did they laugh then but still nothing like the easy conversation the bard provided. Dandelion was different, in every sense of the word, and Geralt had grown to like it. He liked how he could bring light to any situation, and could easily drag him out of his dark head space with a joke. Yes, Dandelion was a very important part of his life, let no one question that. 

The only times Geralt would tell him to shut it is if he sensed danger and needed quiet or if Dandelion’s loudness might scare their next meal away. Tonight, Dandelion played his lute by the fire as Geralt skinned a pair of rabbits for their supper, the winter hadn’t been too harsh this year to the south and they had enough meat on the bones that Geralt was satisfied with his catch. 

“So Geralt.” Dandelion began like he always did. “I’ve jabbered my jaw for the past week to your oh so sensitive ears, it’s time you divulge. What did you get up to this winter?” He asked, plucking the strings delicately with his nimble fingers, a complicated chord he produced with ease. He was fishing for inspiration, Geralt could tell, and he huffed a laugh as he continued his task. 

“The usual, rode through the mountains, stayed at the keep til the snow thawed, fought a nest of forktails on the way back, nothing special.” He said, hiding his smirk as an ugly sound came out of the instrument as the other faltered at his words. 

“A NEST?! How could you keep such a thing from me! How could I have missed what I’m sure was an amazing feat of heroics! You MUST tell me every detail.” He said quickly with theatrically gestures as he hurried to put his lute aside and rummage for his notebook. 

Geralt sighed with a laugh, he’d been preparing for the inquisition since he reached the outskirts of Oxenfurt, just wondering when Dandelion would set his sights on him. “It wasn’t that spectacular, it was only a mating pair and their youngster. I’d have left them alone but they thought Roach would be a nice snack.” He said as he moved the prepared rabbits to roast over the fire. He looked up after a long pregnant pause of silence to see Dandelion practically leaning into the fire with his anticipation and Geralt rolled his eyes. “Set back before you fall in, you dolt.” He teased and continued with all the desired details. 

The lazy circling of the first beast across the sky had caught his attention but didn’t rouse a strong desire to pull his crossbow from his back. He watched it as he traveled for an hour, growing ever closer with it in his periphery, when suddenly another came from nowhere, diving with a roar from the rocky cliffs straight for him, or rather Roach. He cursed, dismounting with a slap to the horse’s hindquarter to take off, hoping he’d find her in one piece after this, and tugged a bolt into the crossbow with little effort. He hit the target dead on, piercing the monster's breast and it roared in pain as it landed a couple yards away. It snapped its jaws at him as he withdrew his silver sword, and he lunged with a flourish. 

He made easy work of the young beast, either that it was was too hungry or just to stupid to think about fleeing Geralt didn’t know. However the first one he had spotted was not forgotten as it swooped down for vengeance. This one he could tell was older, meaner, but he didn’t flinch, and dispatched the beast easily enough, if a bit out of breath. As he was stripping the two beasts for useful parts another screech pierced his ears as a third descended upon him. This time it was not so easy. This one may have been older than the first but was smaller and more agile, and he was tired and his potions had disappeared with Roach, he had to be smarter. He used a blast of Aard when the beast lunged at him, and he rolled away as it quickly snapped after his heels. With a couple of signs to confuse the beast and narrowly dodging he won the fight, but not without a long, if thankfully shallow scar along his side. 

After he concluded the story Dandelion’s quill was still scratching across the paper, the feather jerking wildly as he wrote. He removed the rabbits from the fire, checking for doneness briefly before waving the stick of meat under his friends nose. Dandelion batted the offending meat away and Geralt tsked and set it to a cooler spot away from the direct flame so it wouldn’t get cold, and tucked into his own. 

“Describe what they looked like to me.” He asked after a while and Geralt shook his head and pointed at the meat, meaning for the other to eat. Dandelion huffed dramatically and put down his quill, picking up the skewer and took a large bite. “Satisfied?” he mumbled around the food and Geralt grunted his ascent and described the draconids as asked. 

“It’s not like you haven’t seen an actual dragon before. These were just smaller, less intelligent versions.” He argued but Dandelion gave him a withering look and he continued. “They were a rust brown color, their scales dulled due to their high altitude most likely, the cold and the sun you see.”

“How long were their teeth? Like daggers I’d imagine.” The bard asked, grinning toothily to exaggerate his question. 

“Yes Dandelion, like daggers.” He replied exasperated. 

“I just want to be as accurate as possible! You’re always going on about how I embellish your tales.” He stated matter-of-factly, taking another bite of meat and groaning softly. “Sweet Melitele, this is good. Did you finally learn to cook over the winter?”

“Hrm…” 

“I meant it as a compliment. Your food was just fine before. But did you season this or?”

“Yes. I- uh… learned a bit from Vesemir actually. He practically forced me to take half the pantry of dried herbs with me when I showed even the slightest interest, the old fart.” He added fondly and Dandelion beamed, and that made it all the better, his embarrassment subsiding.

They finished their meal with more conversation and Dandelion 'serenaded’ him, as he cleaned up and set out their bedrolls for the night. 

“When the moon hits your eye,  
Like a big pizza pie,  
That’s AMORE.”

“What are you wailing about?” Geralt gave him a confused look at his strange new song and fake accent. 

“I heard it over the winter, a troubadour who nearly gave me and Valdo a run for our money. He was from further south than even Beauclair. Said his name was… Martin? Strange fellow, but oh did he have a lovely voice, not a damn person in Oxenfurt could get the song out of their heads for a month!” He exclaimed as he continued the complicated strumming while humming along.

“Come to bed, we have an early start and I want to reach the village by mid day.” Geralt said patting the ground beside him and laid back, an arm behind his head as he stared up at the stars. Dandelion put his lute carefully to the side and joined him with a soft huff having shed his doublet and only wearing his chemise, ‘Wrinkles, Geralt. I don’t know how you live with them.’

They slept for a few hours maybe, and if it hadn’t been for the loud snapping of branches, Geralt might not have awoken in time when the ghouls attacked. The stench was unmistakable, dead rotting meat and stale blood made his nose wrinkle, and he grabbed the silver sword he always kept nearby out of instinct. Or paranoia, Dandelion had called it once but the bard wasn’t always right. He still had a few precious moments before they found their camp, the embers of the fire having almost died out in the wind, he grabbed for his pack and cursed when it was only the one with oils, not his potions. ‘Very well.’ he thought with a grimace and oiled the sword quickly with necrophage oil right as the ghouls broke the treeline. 

With a swing of his sword at the first ghoul that charged, it let out a terrible shriek, and Dandelion, who sleeps like the dead, popped up from his prone position, blurry eyed. “Geralt?” He asked confused, rubbing his eyes.

“Stay down!” He yelled, slicing a ghouls head clean off from it’s trunk. But for all his efforts,with every one he killed two more took its place, more and more were coming through the trees, how could he have missed the signs? He hadn’t smelled or sensed anything when he’d picked this spot of seemingly safe woods to rest for the night. No signs of a battle or skirmish nearby, not even… Oh wait. A cemetery, about a quarter mile back. Fuck. He’d been careless, but ghouls didn’t normally leave their territory and hunt the living like this. Just when he thought they were done for and six ghouls had him surrounded, a rush of air swept by him, but the source was too quick to see. In mere seconds half of the ghouls to his left were a mess of gore and limbs, they didn’t even have time to shriek. The other three did, but that was all as they met the same fate. Geralt clutched his sword tighter, this unseen force might be helping him now but when it was finished with the ghouls it would undoubtedly come for him. 

The ghouls all meet a quick and bloody end in due course, Geralt still couldn’t track his unseen savior, until the last ghoul was sliced in half, dare Geralt say neatly and the blur came to a halt right before him. A tall slender man, with grey hair in a coif stood before him with a smirk. His intelligent eyes held a twinkle and Geralt seemingly relaxed and fumed at the same time as he growled out his name. 

“Regis.” 

“Nice to see you too, Geralt. Lovely evening wouldn’t you agree? Ah, except for the uh…” He motioned around their now ruined campsite, littered with remains.

“Regis? It can not be!” Dandelion’s voice came from behind a tree, but just as he emerged from the shadows both the vampire and the Witcher heard the growling of the final ghoul too late. It pounced on the bard in slow motion it felt like. Geralt charged, but his feet were stuck in what felt like mud as he saw his friend fall to the ground under the weight of the monster.

The ghoul’s jaws descended on Dandelion’s form, but the poet writhed and squirmed enough to turn his body under the beast, and they sank into his forearm rather than his neck. The shining blade of the dagger Geralt had gifted to him years ago caught the light of the moon as it plunged into the eye of the beast. It let out a screech and Geralt didn’t know if he was grimacing more from the sound or the blood that was staining his friend's shirt as he lunged to dispatch the monster in one fell swoop of his sword. 

“Fuck… Geralt. Did you see…” Dandelion huffed but groaned in pain cradling his arm, the color draining from his face rapidly and Geralt grabbed him before he fell to his side. Before Geralt could even call, Regis was there, inspecting the wound. 

“Not good.” he murmured, ripping off a length of rope at his side and quickly tied it in a tourniquet around the bard’s bicep, and procured a vial of what appeared to be clear viscous liquid and poured it liberally over the wound. It hissed and bubbled and Dandelion jolted with the pain, but only groaned before passing out completely in Geralt’s arms. 

“Understatement of the century. Ghoul bites are toxic to witcher’s, and just plain death sentences to humans.” He growled, and he felt like a stone had dropped into his stomach at the words, holding Dandelion’s dead weight in his arms. 

“Not necessarily. I’ll take him and you meet me at the cemetery. I’ll be faster than you, don’t fret.” Regis said and took Dandelion from Geralt’s arms before he could protest with uncharacteristic ease for his build and took off, not as fast as the unseen blur from before but it was still scary to watch him move and disappear through the trees. He flew about the site, gathering their things haphazardly, all except the lute, which he took great care with, Dandelion would kill him if anything happened to it. He didn’t want to think about the inevitability awaiting him at the cemetery, so he clutched the lute like a lifeline as he mounted Roach and took off at a gallop. 

Once he reached the grounds of the cemetery, partially obscured from the road by the woods, he nearly leapt from the horse’s back and ran to the largest crypt, the door was ajar, a torch abaze to light the way. He descended the stairs with trepidation, worried what he might find inside.

Geralt had never feared anything, not ghoul, nor dragon. No monster struck terror in his heart, but this… The fear of losing his friend. That pierced through his heart like a shard of ice. He knew, one day, Dandelion would die, go to that place he could not follow, but he had hoped that day were still long off, and the bard would die happily in the arms of his beloved, or peacefully in his sleep as an old man. Not like this. Not from a damn ghoul he should have heard coming before it ever reached them. Guilt racked him, as he stopped at the end of the corridor, a final door lay open to a dimly lit chamber beyond. 

“You won’t do him much good standing in the dark and brooding, Geralt. Come give me a hand.” Regis’ voice said evenly, and Geralt puffed a sigh and marched into the room. Dandelion was laid out, sprawled on a stone slab, his body drenched in a sheen of sweat, his breaths coming laborious and fast, and Geralt feared his normally slow heart might beat out of his chest. “Here.” Regis said pressing a cool damp cloth into his hand meant for him to wipe the sweat from the man’s brow as h. Continued to work on sewing the wound closed on his arm, packing it with herbs unfamiliar to Geralt. 

“How is this supposed to help.” He said through clenched teeth, the anger at himself building.

“This is only the side effects of the remedy I’ve already given him. He’ll have to fight through the fever, but otherwise should be fine within the hour or so.” Regis told him cryptically. 

“And what exactly is this miracle cure you’ve made for Ghoul poison?” Geralt looked at him with a sharp look, he wasn't letting the vampire slip out of this so easily, even if he was his friend.

“My blood.” He stated in a calm matter-of-fact tone, gesturing to the goblet that laid on its side near them. 

"You gave him your blood?!" Geralt growled, no wonder Dandelion was burning up, Vampire blood was just as toxic as Ghouls!

"Calm yourself my friend. I've been experimenting with my blood for years. We higher vampires have many restorative properties, as you know. You use our blood in your own decoctions." Regis stated as he focused on suturing. 

"Yes, and it's fine, for WITCHERS. Not humans." He replied, his tone not calming in the slightest. The fact that Regis knows more than he should about his decoctions and possibly the trials doesn’t escape him, but what doesn’t the vampire know already, he thinks sourly. 

"Which would be true, under normal circumstances. But here, my blood is counteracting the ghoul toxins. It's helping him, while yes, hurting him a bit as well, hence the high fever. The chill in here should help though. The herbs will draw the rest out from the wound." He said and Geralt noticed a small jar of wet green vegetation, presumably a type of seaweed, the other intended to lay over the wounded arm when he was done. 

"What other side effects could there be?" The witcher asked, no room for argument or dancing around the question in his tone.

"Hard to say. There's the high chance for the worst, seizures, blindness, paralysis, death. But these all would have happened anyway if I wasn't here to help you." Regis listed and Geralt growled, clenching his teeth, but still continuing to wipe his friend's brow, towel in a tightened fist. "OR, there is the small possibility for good things as well. He could respond well and be completely fine. And there's an even smaller chance for him to be better than fine."

"Better? How?" Geralt narrowed his eyes at that and dunked the rag in the bucket of cold water at his feet to rewet it.

"Well, to be honest I don't know, as this experiment has never been done before on a human." He continues quickly when Geralt flashes an angry look in his direction. "But in results from rodents, one such subject showed curious improvements. More stamina, keener senses, and a longevity increase much farther than I could have anticipated."

"Are you telling me you made a rat a witcher with your blood? That's the biggest load of rubbish I've ever heard." Geralt said with exasperation and Regis barked a laugh, snipping the string cleanly as he finished closing the wound.

"Hardly. It seemed I may have imbibed some of my own attributes to it though, the duress the creature was under allowed for a slight genetic mutation." He stated simply, now removing a few long pieces of kelp and laying them gingerly across the bard’s arm, and Geralt grimaced, knowing Dandelion would complain incessantly about the stains. “Now, sit.” Regis said as he stood from the stool he was occupying, gesturing for Geralt to take his place. When Geralt gave him a hard look the vampire merely crossed his arms over his chest. “You won’t win this fight Geralt. He needs to be watched and tended to, and I need to attend to a potion for him to aid in his continued recovery. So please.” Geralt rolled his eyes and reluctantly took his place. Regis concealed a smile and patted the Witcher on the shoulder before leaving him, and Geralt sighed minutely once he was out of sight. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Regis, he’d trusted the man with both of their lives in the past and the other had proven his loyalty and earned his respect. It was that he didn’t trust himself. It had been a long time since he had let his guard down, and the last time was because of Ciri. Geralt guarded his heart from everyone, or at least he tried too. He didn’t succeed all that well, Triss, Yen, Ciri and…. Dandelion. 

This one human, this goofy, bright, flamboyant man, with his frills and his songs. This man who only wanted to make others happy, and drink wine. He could light up even the dullest tavern with his presence alone, and captivate an audience with a single strum of his lute or hum of his voice. It seemed that despite it all, Dandelion was the one constant in his life, and he quite liked it that way. Sure, the man had either unwittingly and even at times willingly put himself in harms way during one of Geralt’s hunts and had some (many) near misses, but all the times were different from this… Geralt was always there to protect him, and had done so without fail, til now…

It was in that moment, when Dandelion blearily blinked his eyes open, that Geralt hadn't realized how long he was lost in his own thoughts. He also came to the more sudden realization as the bard groaned, shutting his eyes tightly in pain that Geralt never wanted to miss seeing those bright blue eyes again. Never wanted to feel this way about losing his friend again, and… that the niggling, annoying feeling in his chest was love. 

"Ergh, Geralt what happened? Am I dead? If this is heaven it's very dreary… Geralt am I in hell?! I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, not after the number of marriages I've broken up over my years…" Dandelion's incessant chatter halted as Geralt grabbed his face between his palms and kissed him with everything he had. All his worry, his pain, and his newly realized love was put into that simple press of lips and it only took a moment for Dandelion to break free from his shock and return it with an equally eager response.

"While I'm not in the least bit surprised…" the drawling voice of Regis had them breaking apart quickly and Geralt scowled as the vampire smirked at him. "I would suggest to save more strenuous activities till after the troubadour has made a full recovery. Here." He says as he steps closer in a fluid motion, and places a sickly green potion bottle in Dandelion's hand. 

"Ugh, what's in this grass?" Dandelion grimaces as it sloshes in the bottle, not quite viscous and makes a retching face as he uncorks and smells it. "It IS grass!"

"Actually it's seagrass, or gillyweed. As well as extracts of various other herbology specimens. A tonic that should have you feeling good as new by the morn. Perhaps even better.." He said with a cryptic smile and Geralt continues to scowl knowing the vampire put more of his blood in the potion, but Dandelion only shrugs as he sits up and takes a long swig, drinking the contents with a look of repulsion.

"That must be the most disgusting thing to have ever insulted my pallet! And I've eaten dirt before, of course... don't tell anyone that." He prattled on and Regis just smirked as he removed the bottle from his hands and replaced it with a water skin. "Thank you" the bard replied and drank deeply from the skin, all the while Geralt watching him and glancing between the bard and the vampire, for something, he didn't know what. Dandelion, after finally taking a break from the water, looked at Geralt with shining eyes and he swallowed hard, knowing the look; they needed to talk.

"I will give you both some privacy, as I'm sure you don't wish for an audience for the time being. Call fit me if you need something." Regis said and slipped into the shadows of the crypt as he waltzed away. 

"So…" Dandelion said after a pregnant pause, his legs swinging from his now seated position on the stone monument. 

Geralt remained silent, unsure what to say or how to explain his actions. He didn't look up from his hands either, for the second time in his long life and no less in the same night he was afraid. Not of any monster or curse concocted by destiny, but of rejection by his best friend.   
"Sorry." He mumbled and Dandelion leaned closer. 

"Geralt of Rivia apologizes for nothing and to no man. What is there to be sorry for my dear?" Dandelion asked, his tone soft, and Geralt just sighed and gestured uselessly between them.

"Oh. We're still being an idiot I see." Dandelion huffed a laugh and Geralt looked up abruptly but the angry words that were on his tongue died as Dandelion pressed his lips to his again. 

To say the Witcher melted under the searching lips of the bard would have been a gross exaggeration for Witcher's do not melt from any emotional stimulation. But to say he relaxed at the touch of a warm hand on his cheek, he'd admit to that easily. Long nimble fingers drove their way into the bristled scruff of his beard, and he hmm'd with content, feeling Dandelion smile against his lips. The bard's silver tongue slipped out, and licked the seam of his lips asking for entry, and he granted it. Their tongues danced together, kissing long and languidly as Geralt finally got with the program, his hands reaching out and tugging the man into his lap. 

Dandelion groaned softly, his hands playing with the long ponytail of white hair, and pulled back, resting his forehead against Geralt's, his breaths quick now for a different reason.

"Dandelion…" Geralt breathed his name and the man put a finger against his lips to hush him, a smile playing on his reddened lips. 

"Leave the words to me Witcher. He says and Geralt nods, happy his friend understands. "I was wondering if you'd ever act on it. This thing that's been between us forever. I was happy to be just your friend for the rest of my life, but now… I'm just so elated my heart won't stop its tap dancing in my chest, can you hear it?" He asks excitedly, the words spilling out and Geralt just smiles back at him with a hum. "Silly me, of course you can. Geralt…" The troubadour settles, becoming more serious and Geralt meets his eyes with undivided attention. "I've loved you since the day we met. The time you saved me from that maiden's brothers, and at the edge of the world where we met Filavandrel. It was a different sort of love though from what I have for you now…" His voice came out soft but sure.

Geralt gave a short sigh, closing his eyes for a brief moment, because he knew this. Dandelion was always open with his affections, but he'd grappled with how to accept it for a long time. Now was also hard to deal with for similar reasons, sure he'd changed and learned over the years, taken many lovers, had two even that he thought were it for him but even they'd fizzled out with lies and broken promises. Dandelion though, was still here, and so real in his arms, his gleaming eyes in the candle light only holding hope and truth.

"The reality of losing you tonight… made me realize some things. I don't wish to lose you Dandelion. I…" he paused and Dandelion just waited for him patiently. "I want to be there with you, make sure you're always safe. At least as safe as a reckless bard can be…" he smirked and Dandelion hit him in the chest playfully. "You're more than just my friend Dandelion, much more." He said, hoping this could be enough for his friend for now.

The bard to his relief and delight, nodded with a watery smile, and flung his arms around his neck before crashing their lips together again. 

Later after they seperated and Dandelion yawned quite hugely they wandered into the dark to find Regis again and thank him. 

"It was my pleasure gentlemen. Anything for a friend. Dandelion I do have a cot if you should wish to rest again. Dawn is still a few hours off." He offered and Dandelion yawned again so Geralt pushed him to accept and he did, leaving them to catch a few more hours of much needed sleep.

Regis watched him go and they both waited till they heard the tell tale signs of even, relaxed breathing before either spoke.

"Hmm." Regis hummed as he turned his gaze to Geralt, who just rolled his eyes.

"Don't want to talk about it." Geralt grumbled, crossing his arms and Regis put his hands up in mock surrender. 

"None of my business. Just wanted to say I'm glad for you. Our lives are already longer than most, it's terrible to try to go it alone." Regis said and it was uncanny how he always seemed to hit the right nerve.  
A long stretch of silence sat over them when Regis gave him a scrutinizing look.   
"So, did you notice anything about your bard that was… different?" He asked and Geralt huffed.

"No. No fangs, and the color returned to his cheeks, what exactly are you hoping for Regis?" 

Regis shrugged, "Nothing, even if there was a notable change I wouldn't wish to experiment on his improvements, just asking you to humor me."

"Well for a person who nearly died tonight he seemed very much fine, even, uh…" and if he could blush he would be now.

"Enthusiastic?" Regis offered.

"Fuck off. So maybe he does have a slight increase in stamina. So what?"

"The what, is exactly the thing I'm interested in."

"He seemed more attuned to sounds as well. He even broke off our… when you appeared. A second before I realized it myself." He said looking away in embarrassment. 

"Interesting indeed. And we'll not know if his longevity increased for some time. But since you more than likely will be with him, you'll both just have to see if it's happened for him."

"You got any of that shine? I'm gonna need something stronger than white gull to come to grips with an immortal Dandelion." He said with a small smile and Regis simply procured a bottle from behind his back.

"Was wondering when you'd ask." And they passed the bottle back and forth till dawn.

They departed with another word of thanks and Dandelion, ever the affectionate one, hugged the vampire. Regis awkwardly patted him on the back while Geralt watched on in delight at the scene. 

Time passed, and if you asked Dandelion how much he'd just blink and reply "What is time anyway?" And years would slip by with neither one really the wiser.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this! Leave a comment if you did. :)


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